


Prada

by immistermercury



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (dancer!freddie though it's not important), (i've forgotten how to write anything else), First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Oneshot, Rooftop parties, career progression, stylist jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 22:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20713484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: Jim rested his hand on the table just beside Freddie’s hip. “I’ve got to impress a pretty boy when I see one.”Freddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny the smile that widened across his face. “Trying to make yourself boyfriend material?” He teased.“Depends on what you look for in a man.” He replied, a little coquettish. “I must say, I do have an excellent sense of style.”





	Prada

**Author's Note:**

> I am very stressed so here's something ridiculous I wrote to take my mind off things!

The music was quieter than he was used to at parties, more of a way to spice the air than to fill it, stifle it completely. It was a party for socialising, dancers rubbing shoulders with actors, stylists rubbing shoulders with hairdressers and makeup artists and far too many perfectly chiselled men that made Freddie feel a little inadequate. He’d tried his best to master the smart casual look, but he wasn’t used to styling himself when it really mattered: he could throw on tights and a t-shirt for rehearsals, or a full suit for a formal event, but most of his life he depended on the men around him for his stage wear and public interviews.

He’d gone for loafers in the end; jeans that hugged his thighs nicely, clasped tightly around his middle to boast the lithe cut of his waist; a white t-shirt a size too small that wrapped tightly around his chest and shoulders; and a black blazer that he thought fit the ‘smart’ part of the brief. They were all pieces that had been gifted to him throughout his career, in modelling or promotional shots, interviews or red carpets, awards shows and big nights out where he had to dress his best; they boasted a range of loud brand names, things he hoped fit in.

He wasn’t shy in public: he’d had enough people come up to him that he’d grown used to being himself. It was only in these situations, surrounded by lots of very, very attractive men, that he grew nervous. He was quickly becoming known as one of London’s most eligible bachelors, details of his love life splashed across the tabloids when he slept with the wrong man: everyone knew that he was looking for love, and people had used it on occasion to mess with his emotions. He couldn’t help if he was up on his guard.

“You look lost, pumpkin.” A man rested a hand on his arm and handed him a drink. The voice was smooth, low, and the accent hung heavy in Freddie’s mind - he loved accents, the thicker the better. “This is one of mine, it’s a slightly more alcoholic daiquiri. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“Thanks.” Freddie sipped it absentmindedly. “Not lost, just- underdressed, I guess.” He tried to make him laugh, and was rewarded with a warm smile.

“Oh, you’re not underdressed!” He insisted. “You seem to defy all the rules I’d use to dress someone. I’d never go tight on top and bottom.” He looked him up and down appreciatively. “But then, most people don’t have a body like yours.”

Freddie’s cheeks warmed and he hid them behind his drink. “You’re a stylist, then?”

“Something like that.” He grinned. “I started out as a hairdresser. Jim Hutton.” As Freddie opened his mouth to speak, his smile grew wider. “I know who you are. Freddie Mercury, you’re a principal.”

Freddie held out his hand in place of responding verbally, expecting Jim to shake it. Instead, he took his wrist and lightly kissed the back of his hand, winking at him as he did. “Do you work in ballet?” Freddie asked shyly. “I don’t recall having seen you.”

“I’m trying to break into it.” He explained. “I do a lot of red carpet work, but it’s getting a little tiring dressing people in suits and combing their hair back and being done with it. I’m interested in stage design.”

Freddie arched an eyebrow. “It’s a lot more complex than red carpet work.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen the stuff they put you in.” Freddie could tell that he was a little tipsy, but he wasn’t expecting anything like this conversation. “I feel like I’ve seen your cock from every angle.”

He choked a little and looked up, blushing furiously. “It has to have a certain degree of tightness, otherwise I’ll just fall over it.” He insisted. “Ballet is all about lines, we can’t have lots of clothing in the way, otherwise you lose the lines of-”

“Of the legs, and especially the feet, but you also want the arms relatively free because some audience members will consider the port de bras equally as important.” Jim couldn’t help if he was showing off a little, wanting to impress Freddie. “But at the same time, because of the lack of speech, it also has to convey character and status.”

Freddie started to relax a little when he realised Jim was genuinely interested. “Something like that.” He smiled and took another sip. “You can get creative, though. Things like detachable gowns or wraps or ribbons can work well.”

“I’ve got an idea, actually-” Jim seemed to be losing his cool, calm pretence that he worked so hard to put forward. “For a love story, where a red ribbon that’s been worn by a female lead eventually ties the two characters together at the climax of the story. I don’t know how practical it would be, but I thought it might be interesting for a choreographer to try, at the least, see if it could work-”

“Christopher Wheeldon.” Freddie glanced around. “He’s here somewhere. He’s your man.”

Jim rested a light hand on his arm. “You know, I often skirt around the edges of these kind of parties, it’s nice to have someone to talk to properly.”

Freddie sat on the table behind him and smiled, open and warm. “I can’t remember the last time someone made me a drink, or even bought me one for that matter.”

“Alcohol is usually a good icebreaker.” Jim chuckled. “I haven’t slipped you anything, don’t worry.”

Freddie arched an eyebrow. “You don’t act like that kind of guy.” He smiled. “I didn’t get that kind of impression.”

“Good to know.” He rested his hand on the table just beside Freddie’s hip. “I’ve got to impress a pretty boy when I see one.”

Freddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny the smile that widened across his face. “Trying to make yourself boyfriend material?” He teased.

“Depends on what you look for in a man.” He replied, a little coquettish. “I must say, I do have an excellent sense of style.”

Freddie laughed. “Oh? And how would you dress me?”

“Well-” Jim rested his hands on Freddie’s shoulders and smiled contemplatively. “I’d make the jacket a little more tailored. Personally, I think you’re drowning in it, it’s for your off-season physique when the red carpet events start.” One hand moved tenderly to his waist. “Put a tuck in it from behind so it really fits you snug. I’d trim your hair, too, and I think I’d give you a moustache.”

“Like yours?” Freddie cupped his cheek, taking the opportunity to be equally as hands-on. 

“Like me.” He grinned. “Maybe some jewellery, too. Maybe I’d put a big ring through your nose.”

“Absolutely not.” Freddie mock-gasped. “You can miss me with those needles.”

“What if I held your hand?” He asked, leaning into his space a little closer.

“It would take some serious persuasion, darling. I’d do it for a character, but not just for the aesthetic.” Freddie tilted his head back to meet his eyes, lightly accentuating the sharp cut of his jawline. 

“I’m sure I could twist your arm.” He teased, fingertips trailing over the column of his throat. 

“You’d have to make me.” Freddie challenged, arching a manicured eyebrow.

Jim leaned in and pressed their lips together, a hand on his cheek and a hand on his waist; Freddie let himself get lost in it for a few moments before he started kissing back, arms twining around Jim’s neck. He shivered with excitement as Jim stepped between his legs, the kiss slow and gentle and deep and loving: he wrapped a leg around his waist as he leaned back a little, trusting he’d be supported 

“Wasn’t expecting that to be so easy.” Jim pulled back a little, looking with adoration at the man beneath him, lips kissed red. 

“That’s me through and through.” Freddie winked. “Easiest man in London.”

“Oh, no, darling, I don’t mean it like that.” He kissed him briefly again and smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with loving easily.”

Freddie leaned up and kissed him lightly again, vaguely aware of someone calling his name in the background. “I think that’s my bedtime call.” He said playfully.

“Who are you going back with?” Jim asked him, looking almost disappointed. “The night’s still pretty young.”

“We’re all old men in our industry. Early to bed when we’ve got a show the next day.” He smiled. “I’m crashing on a sofa, we’re doing pizza and some terrible television.”

“What about pizza, television, a warm bed and maybe a bit of extra on the side?” Jim asked suggestively. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Freddie hummed, clearly interested, and let a hand slide over Jim’s t-shirt, feeling the cut of his hips. “Will it be as bad as Dallas?” He teased.

“Dynasty?” Jim grinned.

“Oh, you’ve sold me.” He smiled as Jim kissed him again. “At least I won’t wake tomorrow with crippling pains in my spine.”

* * *

“I feel like I’m eighteen again.” Freddie laughed, resting his forehead on the smooth marble underneath him. “I haven’t been fucked over a kitchen counter in years.”

Jim pressed a kiss to his shoulder, laughing breathlessly. “I couldn’t help myself, darling. You’re gorgeous.”

“You didn’t even get me naked.” He let himself be pulled up to standing, his legs shaky beneath him, and smiled while Jim wrapped his arms around him from behind. “You’re so warm.”

“I need a shower.” Jim chuckled and kissed the side of his neck. “I’ll have you naked before long.”

“Not more than I do.” Freddie chuckled. “I’m sticky and my t-shirt’s ruined.”

“Darling, it didn’t fit you anyway.” Jim teased. “Shower with me?”

“Sounds wonderful.” Freddie grinned. “I’ll have you know it’s Prada and it definitely would cost over three hundred pounds if I’d bought it.”

“It’s a complimentary piece, then?” Jim slid one hand underneath it and helped him pull it off. 

“Almost half my wardrobe is complimentary.” He let Jim take it off his torso and stood unashamedly naked in his kitchen. “I hope you’re not just planning to stand and look, darling.” He grinned when he caught Jim staring at him.

“Of course not.” He replied smoothly, though his cheeks warmed when Freddie pulled off his belt and helped him out of his rucked jeans. “It’s just not every day that you get a ballet dancer in your bed.”

“Technically, I’m not in your bed. I’m on your kitchen counter.” Freddie smirked. “You can take me to bed, though.

“Oh, darling, shower first.” Jim held out a hand and grinned. “Remember, I’m a hairdresser, I’ll give you the full ritz treatment.”

“I’ll take you up on such a good offer.” Freddie took his hand and followed him down the corridor. “I love this place.”

“It’s a nice little bachelor pad. It keeps people away from assuming I’m looking to settle down and have a wife and children and the like.” He shrugged.

“Ouch.” Freddie muttered. “You could’ve said you were looking for a one night stand.”

“Not like that!” He said quickly, realising he’d offended. “I mean people that bug you about having a traditional family life. My mum, she’s catholic, she wants me to settle down with a wife and have at least five children.”

“You’re not that kind of family man, then?” He asked curiously. 

“Who knows?” Jim grinned and turned on the shower. “I know I don’t want a wife, that’s for certain.”

“A convert to cock?” Freddie teased, throwing his t-shirt in Jim’s laundry hamper. “I’m sure you’ll return it at some point.”

“Plan to see more of me, do you?” Jim stepped into the shower and held a hand out for him.

“I want you to style me.” Freddie followed him in, smiling at the arm that safely wrapped around him. 

“Really?” Jim asked excitedly.

“Yes, darling.” Freddie kissed him, long and slow. “Yes, I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos/comments/general love is much appreciated! I'm moving house tomorrow and it'll probably take a few weeks to dive back into writing so apologies if you're waiting on updated fics - hang on in there!


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